


i am raw, a dinosaur (but i will never be extinct)

by callunavulgari



Category: Jurassic Park (1993), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Past Relationship(s), hints of all the pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-12
Updated: 2013-09-12
Packaged: 2017-12-26 09:36:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/964403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callunavulgari/pseuds/callunavulgari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allison thought that she had the things that went bump in the night all figured out. Then her family moved to a small island in the Pacific, and she realized just how wrong she was. Really. Werewolves, zombies, witches—that was one thing. Dinosaurs? No one ever considers dinosaurs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i am raw, a dinosaur (but i will never be extinct)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [antistar_e (kaikamahine)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaikamahine/gifts).



> Antistar-e said: "For your prompt meme: how about Teen Wolf, Scott and Allison, AU scenario: dinosaurs. I DON'T KNOW WHAT KIND OF DINOSAURS. JUST DINOSAURS. JURASSIC PARK AU, MAYBE???"
> 
> This was supposed to be for a 3 sentence meme. I just.... want that to sink in. This was supposed to be 3 sentences of Scott and Allison arguing about raptors. And then I started thinking of Lydia as Ian Malcolm, of Allison holding a wee baby raptor, and just. It grew. It grew a lot. Also, realistically, I know a lot of this is fucking impossible, but this is a Jurassic Park AU. That movie wasn't exactly the picture of plausibility. This is also based off of the movie, because as much as I adore the books, I haven't read them in a few years and also it's a hell of a lot of material to work with. (Anyways, as far as the books go, The Lost World is way better.)

  
First came werewolf hunting, though Allison wasn’t old enough to know it at the time. They moved around a lot, a fact that haunted her young self through every new school, every new friend she made and every friend she had to leave behind. She knew her parents sold a lot of heavy artillery weapons, because most of her childhood was spent being quizzed over the various makes and models of guns, crossbows, grenades, even swords.  
  
Then came the truce—the code—and some very angry conversations between her parents that she didn’t quite understand. She was seven at the time, so she was still way too young to know anything. She just knew that whatever her mom and dad were arguing about, it made the atmosphere inside the house heavy with tension.   
  
(At first, she’d thought it was her. After two weeks of muffled shouting through the walls she finally broke down at the dinner table, sobbing that she was sorry she’d failed that english test, it wouldn’t happen again.  
  
Her dad was pretty quick about explaining that no sweetie, it’s not your fault.  
  
Her mom was quick to remind her that even if it wasn’t her fault, she was still expected to do much better on the makeup test.)  
  
The truce got through it’s rocky period, or so she was told, and family nights stopped being so stressful and started being nice again.  
  
Three years after the truce someone burned the Hale house down and the accords between the two species teetered, wobbling on its axis until someone managed to carefully right it again. A lot of animosity existed between them, but the truce held, all because her dad realized who started the fire, offering her up to the Hale's on a silver platter. The last time Allison saw her aunt, she was being hauled away by two of Allison's cousins, kicking and screaming. Allison still doesn't know what happened to her, just that her dad gets a steely, determined look in his eyes when she's brought up. "She shouldn't have broken the code," he'd say, voice rough, and that was that.   
  
Five years after the Hale fire they got a letter in the mail from Laura and Derek Hale, heirs to the Hale family fortune.   
  
Inside was a job offer.  
  
Allison was eighteen before anything really came of it, too many stipulations to argue over. But, her dad told her that in the end, it would be good for them—for the truce—working so closely together with the Hales. They would be an example to the hunters who still rebelled against the code and maybe this time, peace would last.  
  
Back then, she thought she knew everything. She spent hours poring over the family bestiary, learning about vampires and witches and, most importantly, werewolves. She’d spent a week when she was sixteen hunting a wendigo with her dad, and three months after that she’d spent her first month of junior year tracking down a chimera with her mom. She thought that she had the things that went bump in the night all figured out.   
  
Then her family moved to a small island in the Pacific, and she realized just how wrong she was.   
  
Really. Werewolves, zombies, witches—that was one thing. Dinosaurs?  
  
No one ever considers dinosaurs.  
  
.  
  
When she was nineteen, she made the mistake of leaving her post around the t-rex enclosure for her lunch break and instead of wandering off to the cafeteria to get some food she took a detour through the labs.  
  
She didn’t get the full tour—didn’t get on the stupid ride or watch the stupid cartoon—she’d read over the paperwork, so she knew all about the mosquitoes, about the splicing of frog dna to make up for the bits they were missing. What she didn’t know was how adorable a velociraptor was right out of the egg, so tiny and fragile, covered in goop and bits of eggshell.  
  
“Would you like to hold her?” one of the scientists asked carefully, watchful and wary. She supposed it was probably the weapons on her making him nervous. The crossbow on her back wasn’t very low-profile.  
  
She scritched her index finger beneath its chin, unable to repress the little noise of excitement she made when the creature started purring—or something like it anyway—a gravelly high pitched trilling sound that made her want to cuddle it to her chest and never let it go.  
  
“Yeah,” she whispered, watching the little thing open its mouth, doing its level best to gnaw its way through her thumb with its itty bitty baby teeth. “I think I do.”  
  
.  
  
Her dad and mom weren’t too thrilled with her when they found out she was spending all her breaks feeding baby dinosaurs little chunks of bloody meat and listening to scientists prattle at her. It was enlightening, learning about the cloning process—watching the dinosaurs grow—watching _her dinosaur_ grow.  
  
“Now don’t get too attached,” Deaton warned her. “That little one might be cute now, but she’ll try to disembowel you faster than you can blink when she’s older.”  
  
Allison cooed at her raptor, feeding it another chunk of lamb, giggling when it nipped at the pads of her finger.  
  
“They’re pack hunters, you know.”  
  
She knew.  
  
Hunters always knew other hunters.  
  
.  
  
Allison decided on naming her raptor Kali the first time she saw her rip out the throat of a full grown steer. She’d graduated to the raptor enclosure a month ago and was taking to it well, already challenging the current leader of the pack.   
  
The raptor enclosure was the one thing they really took seriously when it came to security; raptor trumped wolf every time, it turned out, so they were playing it as safe as they could get. The foliage was thick enough that it was almost impossible to see through, but Allison tried her damndest, leaning out over the safety railing and peering down into the pen itself.  
  
Kali glanced her way, instantly dropping the leg bone she’d been gnawing on, and trilled happily—the same sound she’d made as a baby.  
  
Allison cooed back, grinning down, unphased by the blood and viscera coating Kali’s snout.  
  
Derek Hale, standing nearby—some kind of inspection, supposedly, the Hale’s didn’t often come into the park proper—gave her a strange look.  
  
.  
  
She is twenty six when the park is finally almost ready to open. Apparently there are a lot of loops to jump through when it comes to opening a dinosaur theme park, because she overhears the Hale’s shouting about it a lot.  
  
Allison likes Laura. She’s kind and spunky, personable for a multi-millionaire, and has shared many quiet breakfasts with Allison in the cafeteria, groggily joking about how there weren’t enough hours in the day. She’s a great woman and an even better alpha, so Allison doesn’t hold it against her that her and her brother are a little bit _too close_.  
  
Everyone has their secrets. The Hales just have a lot more than most.  
  
.  
  
The people that they bring in to get the approval they need consist of two paleontologists, one genius mathematician, and a jackass lawyer that Allison wants to stab repeatedly in the eye.  
  
The paleontologists aren’t too bad—two men her age who have apparently known each other since kindergarten. ‘Stiles’ Stilinski is exuberant, loud, and shares her dislike for the asshole lawyer. Majored in paleobotany, minored in something weird involving ancient spores; likes curly fries, dinosaurs, and Scott McCall.  
  
Scott is… well, adorable, at first glance. And second, and third. At twenty five, he probably shouldn’t still look like an overgrown puppy, but it works for him. Cute floppy black hair, dark eyes that crinkle at the corners when he smiles, and a hat that looks straight out of Indiana Jones.   
  
Her dad takes one look at the way she’s fighting back a dopey smile and just says, “No.”  
  
Lydia Martin is probably the most attractive mathematician to have ever walked the earth, all stiletto heels and designer dresses. She is also a genius, and proves it within the first five minutes that Allison knows her. Apparently her and the asshole lawyer are married, which has Allison doubting her judgment for all of twelve seconds before she sees Lydia put Jackson in his place.  
  
Allison is assigned as their security detail, which is really just a ploy to make them feel safer, because if anything were to happen, there’s not a damn thing she could do on her own against a bunch of dinosaurs.   
  
So she takes the tour for the first time—rides the ride with them for ten minutes before Stiles jumps ship the second the laboratories come into view.   
  
They coo over baby dinosaurs and the sight of Scott McCall holding one of the itty bitty velociraptors is enough to make her ovaries nearly combust.   
  
When they get to the raptor enclosure, she calls down to Kali, pleased at the trill she gets in return—movement in the brush until she can see the very tip of Kali’s snout poking into the air. Everyone is staring at her when she turns away, but she shrugs it off, lets them do their thing.   
  
They have dinner.  
  
Laura is good with people, always has been. She’s the one who talks, the one who verbally duels with Lydia over some form of fancy pork while Derek sits quietly at her side, arms crossed and glaring out at all of them, like he can intimidate them with his eyebrows alone.  
  
“How can we stand in the light of discovery and not act?” Laura asks, eyes intent on the woman across from her. There’s a smile curling at the corner of her mouth, like she knows she has them.  
  
Lydia snorts delicately, wiping sauce from the corner of her mouth with her napkin. “What’s so great about discovery? It’s a violent, penetrative act that scars what it explores,” she fixes Laura with an unnerving stare. “What you call discovery, I call the rape of the natural world.”  
  
Dinner doesn’t end badly, but it doesn’t end well. By the time they’re all getting up from the table, Laura is gritting her teeth, jaw tense, eyes tinged faintly red. The announcement that the rest of their pack—the Hale kids, as most of her family calls them—are here doesn’t do much to ease her frustration. She just nods jerkily, sliding gracefully from her seat.  
  
Nobody else notices the hand Derek touches to her waist as she passes him or the way that the tension melts easily from her frame after.  
  
.

  
The Hale kids aren’t really kids.   
  
Cora Hale was found living anonymously in a beta pack five hours north of their home town almost seven years after the fire, few memories of her actual family. She’d recognized Derek and Laura though and has been living with them ever since. At twenty-three she’s as gorgeous as she is aggressive, long hair and sharp eyes that are quick enough that even Allison can’t beat her.   
  
The other three are pack—kids who the Hale siblings had saved from a life of abuse and loneliness.  
  
Isaac is probably her favorite. They’d dated, very briefly, and broken up after deciding they were better off as friends. He’s curly-haired and adorable, the cutest little werewolf that could, and has spent many nights with Allison in her apartment, painting her toe nails and watching dumb action movies.  
  
Boyd is quiet, but probably the most intelligent of the entire pack. He has a strong jaw, dark skin, and an endearing smile, when he chooses to use it. He’s good to have along during a crisis and saved her ass when the compy’s dug their way out of their enclosure a few years back.   
  
As for Erica… well, to say that Allison doesn’t like her is an understatement. They’ve butted heads ever since they met, Erica making it her mission to challenge Allison at every turn. There was a weekend that Erica stalked her around the entire island until Allison snapped, shooting her once in the thigh with a crossbow bolt. It was a bad move and she’d known it at the time, but Erica had just grinned at her and tackled her into the brush. What happened in the brush was something she was all too happy to forget about.  
  
That they’re on the island isn’t much of a surprise. They may live back at the old Hale house, keeping things going while Laura and Derek are away, but they visit often.  
  
“Do we have to?” Cora asks when Laura nudges them all toward the jeeps.  
  
Laura gives her a stern look. “You know the island better than most of the staff. Go.”  
  
Cora rolls her eyes, but slides into the car after Boyd, muttering something about how she shouldn’t have to go if Allison was already tagging along.  
  
Allison’s never been in the jeeps before—as a part of the security she’s always walked through the park, long grass brushing past her boots. The whole place smells foreign, full of long extinct plants, and she misses that inside the car, sitting in the front with Lydia as Scott and Stiles bicker quietly in the back. If she squints she can just make out the back of Boyd, Isaac, and Cora’s heads all wedged into the back of the car in front of theirs.  
  
The tour itself isn’t very interesting. Allison isn’t all that surprised to find the first paddock empty. They’d see more if they were on foot, the creatures not getting scared off by the sounds of the jeeps.   
  
The tyrannosaurus enclosure is just as empty, but it is awe-inspiring, seeing those huge electrical fences.  
  
In the back seat Stiles shifts, leaning closer to squint out at the scenery, wrapping his hand around Allison’s head rest and accidentally getting some of her hair caught around his fingers.   
  
“God creates dinosaurs. God destroys dinosaurs. God creates man. Man destroys God. Man creates dinosaurs,” he says with the tone of someone trying to sound philosophical and mature. Allison fights the urge to roll her eyes.  
  
Lydia snorts, peering over her shoulder and giving him this flat, unimpressed stare. “Dinosaurs eat man. Woman inherits the earth.”   
  
.  
  
They leave the vehicles. Of course they do. Stiles apparently can’t stay in one place for long and Scott is quick to follow him, which means that Allison has to jump out after them.  
  
Lydia stays in the car, reapplying her lipstick in the mirror as Allison slides free.  
  
“You should probably come with us,” she says as the car slows to a stop. Lydia sighs and slips out after her, complaining all the while about how stilleto pumps and nature don't mix.  
  
There’s a sick triceratops that Stiles is apparently very concerned about. Allison feels bad about it, but sick dinosaurs die in the park every day. It’s a part of life.  
  
Derek’s stooped next to the sick animal with Deaton. He scowls when he sees them.  
  
“Who told you that you could get out of the car?” he asks, hand still atop the triceratops’ heaving belly.   
  
Stiles grins sunnily at him and shrugs. “I did. We weren’t seeing many dinosaurs back there anyway. You guys should really consider walking tours.”  
  
Allison privately agrees, but bites her tongue, listening to the two of them argue in between questions about how long the dinosaur has been sick, what she’s been eating, on and on until they end up in front of a pile of shit.   
  
Lightning flashes overhead, thunder booming across the clearing, and Jackson clears his throat nervously.  
  
“We need to get back to the cars,” he says, and after a moment, Lydia nods.   
  
“Not that dinosaur poop isn’t interesting, but we really should.”  
  
Stiles is muttering something, wandering around the clearing with a rubber glove the only thing separating his skin and dinosaur shit. “I think I’d like to stay for awhile,” he says a moment later, when Scott shouts after him.   
  
Derek isn’t thrilled, but in the end he gives in, watching them as they walk away.   
  
.  
  
The storm is pretty bad.  
  
Predictably, that’s when things go to shit.  
  
.  
  
The t-rex is bigger than she remembers, towering above the Hale kids car. She curses, biting her lip as she considers. Her crossbow isn’t going to do a whole lot against the ten ton giant lizard and she’s also pretty sure the tranqs she’s got with her aren’t going to do much against the second biggest dinosaur in the park.  
  
“Fuck,” she hisses, slamming open the door when the kids start snarling.   
  
The tyrannosaurus, contrary to popular belief, _can see you_ , moving or not. It’s big head swivels toward her and she shouts at it, leveling her gun and firing a tranq into its side. Nothing happens, so she fires another and another, until it’s lumbering towards her and her gun is clicking empty.  
  
She swipes her wet hair out of her eyes, growling as she turns tail and runs as fast as she can.  
  
It’s fast. Too fucking fast, stupid tiny arms held aloft as it gives chase. Her heart’s pounding, faster and faster, blood singing with adrenaline, and she doesn’t have time to pull out her crossbow, just runs. Scott catches up with her and she blinks at him, surprised, but not surprised enough to question it. She wonders how the hell he managed to catch up, still in the car with Lydia when she left the clearing.  
  
“Bank right,” he shouts and she does, just as four snarling wolves leap onto the dinosaur.  
  
“Oh my god, you are kidding me,” she hisses as Scott spins on his heel and changes mid-leap, eyes shining and golden in the dark.  
  
The t-rex has a tough hide, thicker than most of the other dinosaurs in the park, so their bites don’t really do much besides piss it off. It is flagging though, whether it’s because of the five werewolves clawing into it or Allison’s tranqs catching up, but it’s slowing down.   
  
She finds more tranqs on the pouch at her belt—not many, but maybe enough.   
  
Her fingers shake as she loads them, her vision blurred when she takes aim. Sadly, she is only human and with both the dark and the rain ganging up against her, she can’t really tell where the werewolves stop and the dinosaur starts.   
  
“Get out of the way,” she shouts, and the wolves… obey her instantly.   
  
She fires the rest of the tranqs into the t-rex, hoping against hope that they’ll be enough.  
  
They are.  
  
The t-rex drops and with a sigh, so does Allison.  
  
“Nice shooting, Bambi,” Erica says from beside her, and Allison laughs, her grip on the gun so tight that her knuckles have gone white.  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
.  
  
When they get back to the jeeps both Lydia and Jackson are gone and there are fresh tire tracks in the mud.   
  
“I think we might have missed our ride,” Boyd says, and Allison heaves a sigh, kicking the muck off her boots.  
  
“Figures,” Cora says bitterly.  
  
“Well,” Allison whispers, “It’s probably a good thing that the majority of us are werewolves.”  
  
They all look at her, eerily in unison, eyes shining gold in the dark.   
  
“Think you can keep up with us, hunter?” Erica teases.  
  
She’s sore all over, down to her crossbow and a couple knives, and might be starting to catch a cold, but she’ll be damned if she tells Erica that.  
  
“Um,” Scott puts in from behind her. “We should probably sleep for the night, actually. Just saying. We might see all right in the dark, but she can’t. I’m not saying you can’t take care of yourself, but all of us could benefit from the sleep.”  
  
Boyd nods and says, “He’s right, you know.”  
  
“The four of us are pretty jet-lagged,” Isaac admits, and Scott snorts.   
  
“Us too. We came from _Arizona_.”  
  
“Well then,” Allison sighs, secretly relieved. “We should probably find a tree.”  
  
.  
  
The puppy pile is only kind of weird. She’s used to Isaac being a little too in her space, remembers the way she used to wake up to him curled around her, all heat, but that’s nothing compared to having five bodies wrapped around her fifty feet above the ground. There are too many limbs and she can’t tell who’s who, though she’s pretty sure the hand that keeps groping her butt is Erica’s.  
  
She doesn’t sleep much and slowly watches the sun come up in between quick naps, Scott’s cheek pillowed on her collarbone. It can’t be comfortable, but she likes the way their skin feels pressed together.  
  
She watches the brachiosaurus’ rise with the sun, sleepily stroking a hand through Isaac’s hair as she hums at them, trying to mimic their songs.  
  
Scott is the first to rise and he shifts against her shoulder, smacking his lips and brushing some of the drool from where his head was. When he sees she’s awake he blushes and mumbles, “Sorry about that.”  
  
He is so cute.   
  
“It’s okay,” she says back, quiet so she doesn’t wake the others. “I spent five years feeding baby dinosaurs. I’m used to it.”  
  
He makes an inquisitive little noise, snuffling her neck in a way that makes her think it’s probably on accident. Werewolves are so weird. “How was that?”  
  
She smiles, thinking of all the babies she’s held over the years.  
  
“I raised a velociraptor to adulthood and she still recognizes me. Her name’s Kali.”  
  
Belatedly, it occurs to her that Kali might actually be out of her enclosure. She kind of hopes not. She has next to no hope of winning against Kali’s pack, and she isn’t stupid enough to think that the recognition means Kali would spare her.  
  
He hums against her neck and she shivers, patting the snout of a brachiosaurus as it sidles up next to them.  
  
It bellows and the rest of them jerk awake, fangs stretching their mouths wide and eyes gleaming.   
  
She muffles her laugh against the top of Scott’s head.  
  
.  
  
They find eggs.  
  
 _They find eggs._  
  
She thinks of Lydia, her face grim as she said, _Life always finds a way_.  
  
There’s a block of ice in her belly and it’s starting to melt.  
  
.  
  
Isaac nearly dies when the fence gets turned back on.   
  
He’s a werewolf, so he bounces back pretty quickly.  
  
.  
  
The lobby is eerily deserted, so she goes out to look around, leaving the wolves with an enormous spread of deserts. Scott follows her.  
  
It’s a good thing too, because they run into Derek and Stiles, Stiles limping with an arm around Derek’s shoulder as the younger of the Hales drags him forward. They look like they’re in a hurry, which probably isn’t a good thing.  
  
“Run,” Stiles hisses.   
  
Derek’s eyes are panicked, which is what does it for her.  
  
She runs.  
  
.  
  
Raptors can open doors.  
  
They’re also much better at being pack hunters than werewolves, none of that human instinct to get in the way of the animal ones.  
  
Allison watches the shadows carefully, arm thrown over Stiles’ chest. He’s breathing heavy, and on his other side Derek shushes him quietly.   
  
She wonders where Laura is—where anyone is, and then she’s not thinking because Kali comes into view, head held high.  
  
Allison holds her breath, fighting down the swell of affection—resisting the urge to call for her.  
  
Kali trills, almost mournful.  
  
Allison shuts her eyes.  
  
Gently, softly, she coos back, wondering if she's making a huge mistake.  
  
.  
  
Kali’s muzzle is hot against the back of her neck, breath stirring the small hairs there. Beside her, she’s pretty sure that Stiles is having a panic attack, but he stays still while Allison slowly turns around, nuzzling that snout gently, carefully.  
  
“Pack,” she says, pulling back slightly so she can look Kali in the eyes.   
  
Her raptor blinks at her, closer than she’s been in years, and trills softly, nudging Allison back.  
  
“Pack,” Allison repeats.  
  
.  
  
Hunters know other hunters, always.  
  
“Clever girl.”  
  
(And now she has a pet raptor.)  
  
.   
  
They still have to leave. Lydia’s hurt, Jackson’s gone sue-happy, and Laura’s eyes are hard and flinty. There’s blood all down her front, like someone or something tried to slit her throat open, and Derek holds her hand the entire way back to the helicoptors.  
  
Their uncle, the crazy asshole in charge of the programming for the park, is notably absent.  
  
Allison doesn’t ask questions.   
  
She’s told that her family has already been evacuated, that Laura had to practically swear on her unborn children to make them trust her with Allison’s safety.   
  
They aren’t safe here, even with the raptors out of the picture.  
  
The sun is shining as they take off—making the waterfall sparkle and shine. In the distance, dinosaurs roar loudly.   
  
“So,” Scott says to her once they’re seated, across from an irritated looking Cora. “Wanna get something to eat sometime?”  
  
She laughs, nudging their shoulders together.   
  
“After all we’ve been through?” she says, quieting the laughter bubbling up her throat. Jurassic Park fades below them, and she doesn’t know if she’ll ever see it again—doesn’t know if she’ll ever see her tiny apartment on the outskirts of the park or all the things left inside. Doesn’t know if she’ll see Kali, who had nudged her so, so gently and chittered until the rest of her pack backed down, Allison’s arms around her neck. She thinks of Scott’s floppy hair and wonders how their kids would look, if a relationship actually works out.

(It won’t, it won’t, she knows it won’t. They never do. Argents are useless happy.)  
  
She thinks of tiny floppy haired kids, his coloring, her eyes—of coming back to this little island some day, seeing if Kali’s still doing okay.

(How long is the lifespan of a healthy velociraptor? They may never know.)  
  
She grins, ignoring Cora’s groan of disgust. “Sure. Why not.”  
  
  



End file.
